Dear Harry,
by Alanius
Summary: Ginny meets Harry at platform nine and three quarters. When she gets a letter from Ron telling her he's best friends with him, she decides to write Harry a letter. Written for the When Harry Met Ginny SIYE Challenge 107.
1. Just a Letter, Dear

_**DEAR HARRY,**_

CHAPTER I  
**Just a Letter, Dear**

"Now what's the platform number?" her mother asked. Ginny knew she was just being silly to cheer her up. As if she could ever forget the platform number. It had been the same for about two hundred years.

"Nine and three quarters," said Ginny. "Mum, can't I go ..." she pleaded, tugging a bit on her mother's hand. Normally, her mother would have caved in to her puppy dog look and agreed to anything she required, but she was "not old enough."

The last two years had been bad enough in the absence of the twins to keep her sane. Ron was fun enough, although he was a bit insensitive and tended to treat her like a boy once in a while. On the whole, she had been glad Ron had not been going to that place yet.

But now he was. It was September the first, a couple of minutes to eleven. It was time for her brothers - all her brothers who still lived at home: Percy, Fred, George and Ron - to leave for Hogwarts.

She really was not looking forward to the coming year. She would be all alone at home, with no one to play with. Her mother had said _she_ would be her friend, but, well, she just wasn't the right age. Luna might come over once in a while, like she did the past two years whenever her father was out on Snorkack expedition. But she was ... well, odd. Although she was a lot more sensitive than Ron, she tended to say the stupidest things. Like when she accused the newly elected Minister for Magic of being a former member of the Official Goblin Hater Club.

Ginny was shaken out of her reverie when Fred said something funny. He wore a straight face and to the inexperienced, his voice sounded as if he wasn't lying. Ginny, however, could detect the hint of amusement that betrayed him whenever he tried to pull her leg.

"I'm not Fred. I'm George," he said. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you _tell_ I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear,"

"Only joking, I am Fred." Ginny considered the possibility that Fred did that to cheer her up. If that was the case, it was a poor attempt. Indeed, Fred winked at her before he left to go through the barrier. Ginny glared back.

"Excuse me," said a Muggle boy behind them. He had scruffy black hair and baggy clothes. And - hang on - he was carrying a white owl. He must be going to Hogwarts, too.

"Hullo, dear," her mom said, "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

"Yes," said the boy, "The thing is - the thing is, I don't know how to -"

"How to get onto the platform?" Ginny's mother supplied helpfully. As she explained to him how to reach platform nine and three quarters, Ginny considered the boy. He must be Muggle-born, or else one or both of his parents would have known how to get there. Speaking of parents ... why weren't they here? Shouldn't they at least see their son off?

"What a polite soul," her mother said as she watched Harry disappear into the barrier. "If only there were more of him, the world would be a better place. Ron, your turn. Maybe you should do it at a bit of a run, too, just like he did."

Nodding, Ron pushed his trolley forward and broke into a run. Just as he disappeared, Ginny said to her mother, "I wonder where his parents are. Shouldn't they be here?"

Her mother nodded. "They should be. Poor soul. No one should be left alone at a train station to find their way."

"I'll ask him," Ginny said determinedly as she felt her mother push her in the back, signaling for her to move through the barrier, too.

Suddenly, her mother held her back. "No!" she said. "Ginny, you must realize that it may be a sensitive topic for him. He may not want to talk about it."

"Why wouldn't he want to talk about it?" Ginny asked in confusion.

"Well," her mother explained, "maybe his parents are disappointed in him that he's a wizard. Maybe they don't want him anymore. I'm not saying this is the case, but if it was, would you want to remind him of that fact?"

The horrible truth of that possibility dawned on Ginny as she nodded meekly. She followed her mother through the barrier, holding her hand tightly.

Her brothers quickly joined her and her mom for a last goodbye. Their usual, casual humor put a smile on her face after all.

But then the subject changed to something else. Fred was talking about that black-haired boy who asked her mother for directions not ten minutes ago.

"Who?"

"_Harry Potter!_"

For the second time in a short period of time, the horrible truth dawned on Ginny. The boy's parents weren't there because they were dead. They had died just after she had been born - Harry Potter had been one year old at the time. Therefore, he was Ron's age. Of course, he would be going to Hogwarts with him.

She wanted to see him again. No, she _had_ to see him again. "Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please ..."

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in the zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?'

Fred answered something about the famous lightning scar. It must be horrible for everyone to recognize you by one glance at such a horrible relic of a terrible past. Ginny hoped none of her brothers would be stupid or insensitive enough to gape at it.

Suddenly, the whistle sounded, signaling for everyone to board the train. Just as suddenly, Ginny was overwhelmed by her own fear: loneliness. She was going to spend a whole year alone. The chance that her brothers would return at Christmas was small, as her parents had plans to go on vacation. Ginny was going to have to wait, in utter loneliness, until school was over.

Ginny couldn't stop the flow of tears leaking from her eyes nor could she stop the sobs that escaped her mouth. She was so sad. Every time her brothers came out of school in the summer, it would feel as if she got new friends. And every time she had to say goodbye to them, it would feel as if she'd lost them.

"Don't worry, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls!" said Fred.

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"_George!"_

"Only joking, Mum."

The train started moving, and Ginny started running after it. Tears were still dropping from her eyes, but she managed to conjure a smile. The train gathered speed, and she fell behind, still waving.

* * *

"Ginny? Are you all right? You seem a little absent," her father said, shaking her out of her thoughts about Harry Potter. They were having dinner at the Burrow without Percy, Fred, George and Ron. "It's okay to be sad, you know. I'm sure your brothers will send you lots of owls. They did last year."

After the train's departure, she had Side-Along Apparated with her mother. Ginny hadn't said a word since she had come back home.

Home. That word was going to take on a new meaning. Home used to be where her brothers were - where they had fun. Now it was just the house where she lived. Although she loved her parents very much, they just weren't the same. They couldn't act like children. They always had too many responsibilities.

"Tell you what," her father continued. "After supper, we'll grab two brooms from the shed, and we'll fly. I know how much you like flying when your brothers are sleeping or doing something else."

Ginny finally forced her attention on her father. He wanted to cheer her up. "I can't stop thinking about Harry Potter," she said.

"Harry Potter? Well, I guess he'd be about Ron's age, so he would be going to school this year. Wouldn't he?"

"We met him," Ginny's mother supplied.

"Oh really?" her father said, barely hiding his disbelief that his family was fortunate enough to meet the famous Harry Potter. "Did you see his scar?"

"The last thing he needs is everyone else goggling at his scar," Ginny said coldly. "I'm afraid he's going to get a lot of that where he's going."

"Of course," said her father, instantly apologizing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. So, what did you think of him?" Dad always had a way of conveying his respect for Ginny's impression of strangers. Harry Potter, however, was difficult to analyze.

"He asked for directions," Ginny answered dully. "How to get to platform nine and three quarters."

"Did he really?" her father asked again. "And you told him how, I presume?"

"Of course," her mother said. "He was ever so polite when he -"

"Dad," Ginny said, unknowingly interrupting her mother. "What happened to Harry after he beat You-Know-Who?"

Her father sighed. "Last I heard, he was sent to his Muggle relatives. You probably saw them on the platform."

"No," Ginny said quickly. "He was all alone. What kind of family would drop their kid off at an unknown railway station? It doesn't make sense."

Her words were followed by a short silence that was broken when Ginny continued. "There was something about him. Something ... I can't explain. He was ... confident and yet not confident. Hopeful and yet ... scared. I want to see him again."

Her father smiled. Was Ginny developing a crush on the hero of the wizarding world? "Maybe you should write him a letter. Get to know him a bit."

"I dunno, Dad."

"Come on, what have you got to lose? The worst that can happen is that he ignores you."

Ginny smiled wryly. "What if he ends up in Slytherin? He won't want anything to do with a Weasley."

"But you're the smartest and the cutest of the lot. He'd be insane not to write back."

Ginny smiled wryly again. "Let's go fly for a bit."

Her father's eyes lost a joyous gleam. It had been the same gleam that sparkled in his eyes whenever he surveyed a Muggle toy - the gleam of amusement. Ginny knew perfectly what that meant, even though it didn't apply to her. She was glad the subject changed, however. "All right, all right," he said. "But don't go too fast on me, okay? I'm not as young as I once was."

"Ginny, breakfast!" Ginny woke in her bed with a smile on her face. She and her father had been flying deep into the night until her mother came out and started shouting at her father for letting her stay up so late. It had been a very enjoyable evening. Too bad Dad wasn't available every evening.

Her mother had just called for her; breakfast was ready. Ron, always the first to want to eat, would probably get up soon and make a lot of noise going down the stairs.

But then reality dawned on her. Ron was at Hogwarts as were Fred and George and Percy. Her good mood instantly spoiled, she got up and started walking downstairs.

"Good morning," her mother said cheerfully as she fried sausages and bacon. "Did you sleep well? There's a letter from one of your brothers."

"Gumonning," mumbled Ginny in reply. Then she registered the meaning of her mother's second sentence. A letter from Hogwarts? "Where?"

"It's on the table, dear," her mother said as she tipped a sausage onto her plate, next to the magically scrambled eggs.

Ginny went to the owl, Errol, who was sitting on the dining table. She untied the scroll from his leg and started reading.

"Well, what does it say?" her mother asked.

"It's from Ron," Ginny answered. "He's in Gryffindor."

"Oh, good!" Ginny's mother exclaimed. "Your father will be glad to hear that. What else?"

"He's friends with Harry Potter," Ginny answered. "He's in Gryffindor, too."

"I told you he wasn't going to be sorted into Slytherin," her mother said.

Ginny, unable to recall such a statement and deciding to ignore it, continued summarizing the letter. "They met on the train. Ron says he insisted on buying him sweets. They met Draco Malfoy, who offered Harry his friendship on the condition that he ditched Ron - what a prat! - but Harry chose Ron."

"He sounds like a sweet boy," her mother said.

"Yes, he does. I hope he doesn't think he needs to buy friends with candy. That would get him in the wrong crowd. But at least he refused Malfoy. That's a good thing." Ginny sighed. If only she could see him again, she might be able to determine what kind of person he was. She couldn't stand not knowing what he was like. Normally, she could pick up on the vibes people emitted when she met them. But Harry ... she couldn't figure him out. She just didn't know about Harry.

Harry? When did she start calling him Harry? Even Ron referred to him as Harry Potter in his letter. They hadn't even exchanged a pair of words, and she was already calling him "Harry" in her head.

Her mother's eyes sparkled with that same gleam that had sparkled in Ginny's father's eyes the previous evening before they went flying. Why was that? "Why don't you send him the letter your father was talking about yesterday, Ginny?" she said. "It doesn't sound like a bad idea. Maybe you need a quill friend." When Ginny remained silent for a while, she prodded again, "It's just a letter, dear."

Now that she'd slept on it, it didn't sound like such a bad idea after all. "Maybe I will," Ginny said. "Maybe I will."

* * *

Author's Notes: _To all you devoted readers, this doesn't mean I am going to abandon Harry Potter and the Dark of the Lord. This is just a side project of four chapters, 12000 words in total._


	2. Swarming with Little Potters

CHAPTER II  
**Swarming with Little Potters**

Harry woke up for the second time in his four-poster bed. Still not quite used to the idea that he had so much room where he slept, he got up.

Shortly after that first letter from Hogwarts arrived, Harry was given a new room. However, he'd been too busy trying to get hold of one of those letters to actually enjoy his spacious new room.

When Ron woke, they headed downstairs to see if they could find the Great Hall without getting lost in the bowels of the castle.

They did get lost. Twice. Breakfast had already begun when they arrived. They hurried to their established seats, trying to attract as little as possible attention to their tardiness. Harry, however, was followed by whispers, stares and finger-points.

When they were in the middle of their breakfast, the owls entered the hall. It scared Harry just like it had scared him the day before. What even scared him more was a gray owl that fell in his bowl of fruit loops.

"That's Errol," said Ron, white in the face, hoping no one had seen what his family owl did. "My family's owl," he explained to Harry. "What's he doing, delivering _you_ a letter?"

"Are you sure it's for me?" Harry asked. "Nobody's ever sent me a letter, except this school. Why would anybody from your family send me a message?" He untied the scroll from the unconscious owl's leg and handed it to Ron. "I think it's for you."

Ron took the scroll, unrolled it, and started laughing. "Nope. It's for you, mate. Ginny wrote you a love letter."

Harry, turning distinctly red in the face, choked on his mouthful of bread (he'd abandoned his fruit loops). "'Dear Harry,'" Ron started reading out loud, for the entire section of the table to hear. "'My name is Ginny Weasley. We met briefly -'"

"Don't read that!" Harry said as he pulled the letter out of his laughing friend's hands.

"If I didn't know better," Ron said, still laughing, "I'd say Ginny's got a crush on you."

Harry, even redder than the Hogwarts Express now, was desperate for a change of conversation. "So what have we got today?" he asked as he stuffed the letter in one of the pockets of his black Hogwarts robes.

"Transfiguration," said Ron, taking pity on his friend for the amount of shame he must be feeling. A love letter from Ginny ... Ron wasn't able to quell a wicked grin. "It's the twins' favorite subject. I'm sure we're about to find out why.

* * *

That evening, after all the lessons of the day had finished, Harry was able to win himself a seat near the common room fire. Ron had decided, upon Hermione's active persuasion, to start with McGonagall's foot-length essay on Simple, Inanimate Transfiguration Spells.

Looking around warily for Hermione and the twins, who'd either make him start studying for the exams which were, according to Hermione, "not so far away at all", or else make fun of him when they found out Harry had been sent a love letter, Harry only saw a couple of studious fifth-years huddled in a corner, whispering. It was early in the evening, after all, far too early for the common room to be chock-full.

Harry started fumbling with the pockets of his robes. It would take him a while, he figured, to get used to these magical garb. They were a bit like his hair: a bit too big for him, black, and would just not sit right. Finally, Harry managed to extract the letter he'd received at breakfast.

He felt blood rushing to his head again. What was he going to do with a love letter? Was he going to reply? But he wasn't in love with the little girl he'd seen running after the train. Should he politely decline? Should he ignore her? But this was only his second letter ever, if you count all the letters from Hogwarts as one.

Blushing, Harry smoothed out the crinkled parchment and started reading the letter he knew he'd cherish for the rest of his life, regardless of its contents, it being only his second real letter, after all. To his utmost relief, he realized it wasn't a love letter. Ron had simply made that up. Harry made a mental note to confront him with it.

_Dear Harry,_

_My name is Ginny Weasley. We met briefly on platform nine at the train station on the first of September - you asked my mom how to get to platform nine and three quarters._

_I understand you are friends with Ron. He's my brother. Say hi to him for me, will you? He sent us (that is, Mom, Dad and me) a letter this morning to tell us about his first day at school before lessons started. Congratulations on making Gryffindor, by the way._

_After much persuasion on my parents' side, I finally decided to write you a letter. Why? Because I couldn't stop thinking about you. Some part of you got burned onto my retina and everywhere I go, I can't help thinking what that polite boy that was following us would be doing._

_It's just ... You struck me as a mystery person. I don't know what it is. It's this sort of gift, I guess. I can get a very accurate impression of people the instant I meet them. But I just can't figure you out._

_I'm sorry. I must be sounding stupid and foolish and, though I don't think my handwriting can convey it, a little nervous. I just wanted to send you a letter, that's all. I would be honored if you replied._

_But of course, if you already have a mountain of fan mail, just put me on the "forget" pile. You probably have loads of fans dying for a reply. If I'm one of them, don't bother answering this letter. I'm not worth getting back to when there are so many other people to take the initiative and write a letter just like me._

_So a little about me, now, I guess. Like I told you, my name is Ginny Weasley. I live with my parents in a little village called Ottery St Catchpole. I have six brothers, all older than me. Bill and Charlie have left Hogwarts already. You'll have met Percy, as he's a Gryffindor prefect. The twins mentioned they'd met you. And obviously you're friends with Ron._

_I like playing Quidditch, though my brothers never let me play. They say I'm a girl and far too fragile for such a manly sport. As if the Holyhead Harpies isn't an all-women team! Anyway, they don't think I'm any good at flying. I can't wait till trying out for the Gryffindor team in a few years' time._

_Speaking of years, I just turned ten. I know you're eleven, because this is your first school year. I will be going to Hogwarts next year (I hope). I can't wait._

_What's Hogwarts like? I've heard from my brothers that it's a big castle, but I've never been there. What are the lessons like?_

_What is fame like? Is everybody goggling at your scar like I expect them to? You shouldn't blame them; they're just kids._

_Since I'm on a spree of question-asking, I'll just continue. Everybody knows that you're not muggle-born. Your father and mother were a witch and wizard. How come you didn't know how to get onto the platform?_

_I heard you were taken in by Muggle relatives of yours. Is that correct? If so, what's their excuse for not seeing you off at platform nine and three quarters?_

_We all heard the story of how you defeated You-Know-Who when you were one year old. I was wondering, how much of it is correct? The _Daily Prophet _is known blow things out of proportion._

_Are you an Animagus? It's probably inaccurate, but I remember one _Quibbler _article that said you were born an Animagus owl._

_Please reply. I'd love to be quill friends. I hate to complain about being lonely, but with all my brothers gone, I could use another friend._

_Looking forward to your reply,__Love,__Ginny_

Harry was puzzled at first. Why would anyone in their right mind want to send him a letter? Why this little girl, of all people? He really hadn't expected any mail, to be honest. And of all the people he'd ever met in the wizarding world, this little redheaded girl was the last one he had expected to send him a letter.

But why had she? That gift of hers that told her what kind of people everyone she met was, didn't tell her what kind of person Harry was, so what? Was that a legitimate reason to write a letter and find out? If it were Harry, he'd just forget about that person.

No, there had to be something more to the reason for the letter. But she wouldn't let him in on it. Why? Obviously she was interested in him as a person, but Harry found it hard to believe it was because of her "gift". Why would anyone in their right mind be interested in him as a person? It just didn't make sense.

And yet she said she wanted to be pen pals. That idea seemed appealing to Harry, even though he couldn't figure out what was in it for her. Was she trying to make fun of him? Maybe it was all a huge hoax.

But Dudley wasn't here. Everytime he'd been maligned by his classmates - given the wrong date and address for a party, or framed for hiding the teacher's chalk - Dudley had been behind it in one way or another. Now, Harry was quite certain that Dudley did not know Ginny Weasley.

This was the first letter Harry had ever received, apart from the rather official ones from Hogwarts. This was the first _casual_ letter he had ever received and he wast thankful for it. He decided to honor it with a reply.

Harry took a spare bit of parchment and a quill and started writing. Soon, he'd written more than Ginny had and he decided to stop. When he was finished, Harry left the common room, hoping he could find his way to the Owlery - and back.

When he entered one of the highest towers in Hogwarts, Hedwig immediately flew to the window sill before him.

"Hello, girl," Harry said appreciatively as he started stroking her white feathers. "I have a letter for you. The addressee is called Ginny Weasley. She lives in a town called Ottery St Catchpole. D'you think you can find her?"

Hedwig hooted in indignation at the implication that she might not be able to find an addressee. Harry tied the scroll to the owl's leg and found himself hoping that Ginny Weasley would write back soon.

As he made his way back down to Gryffindor Tower, he ran into Ron, who had finished his Transfiguration essay in the library.

"Hey, Ron!"

The gangly, tall, redheaded form of Ron Weasley turned around to face his friend. "Hey, Harry. What's up?"

"D'you finish your Transfiguration essay? Anyway, why did you say the letter from your sister was a love letter?"

"Because it was," said Ron, starting to laugh again. "You read it? 'Dear Harry,'" Ron cited in a horrible impersonation of Ginny's girly voice. "'My name is Ginny Weasley. We met briefly at platform nine and three quarters. I want you to fall in love with me so we can marry and have lots of children and start a family. Lots of love, Ginny.'"

"That's not what it said," Harry said, producing the letter from his robes. He was getting better at unpocketing something. He handed the letter to Ron.

Contrary to what Harry expected, Ron started laughing harder now. "Look at this stuff. 'Dear _Harry,_' 'I couldn't stop thinking about you.' 'I'd _love_ to be pen friends.' or '_Love_, Ginny' Seems to me like she's awfully eager to be on first-name terms. Dude, Harry, are you blind? This is a freaking love letter."

Blushing again, Harry said, "No, it isn't. This is just a ... I don't know. A friend's letter."

"Only one problem in that train of thought, pal. You're not friends with my sister. Not yet anyway. And if it's up to her, you'll bypass the whole 'friend' stage and go straight to M-A-R-I-E-D."

"You know, you forgot an 'R'," Harry noted.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go on. Change the topic. Forget that she's smitten with you. You didn't send a reply, did you?"

Absolutely red now, Harry slowly nodded. Ron started howling with laughter. "This place is going to be swarming with little Potters in a few years' time."


	3. Trying to Buy My Way In With Hugs

CHAPTER III  
**Trying to Buy My Way In With Hugs**

Ginny couldn't believe it when she was having breakfast the next morning. A beautiful snowy owl landed on top of the uneaten porridge, a letter tied to its leg.

_Dear Ginny,_

_I read your letter and yes, I do remember you from the train station. I enjoyed watching you run after the train._

_You don't sound stupid or foolish, and definitely not nervous. This was the first letter ever sent to me, apart from the ones from Hogwarts. I'm thankful for that and if replying is the least I can do, then I'll do the least I can. Does that make sense? Point is, I'd love to be quill friends, too. If you'll have me, that is._

_I don't have a mountain of fan mail waiting for me. Am I that famous? In the Leaky Cauldron (I'm not sure if you know; it's a pub at the beginning of Diagon Alley), everybody present seemed to know me. And here at Hogwarts, everywhere I go people seem to follow me with their whispers and fingers. It's getting pretty annoying, really._

_And yet you're the only one to send me a letter. Thank you. I enjoyed reading I,t and I am already enjoying replying. I'll try to answer your questions as best as I can on one condition: you, in return, must try to answer my questions as best you can._

_At first, when Errorel (that's the name of your bird, right?) fell into my bowl of Fruit Loops, both Ron and I thought he carried a letter for _him_. He told me you had written me a _love letter_. I must admit, I was rather reluctant to read it at first._

(_Trust Ron to screw up what I want most_, Ginny thought before she continued reading.)

_By the way, I decided to send this letter with Hedwig, my owl, as Errorel seemed like he might collapse on another delivery. Hedwig's a bit younger._

_Hogwarts is really great. It's been more of a home for me in these two days than anything else ever has. It's a really big castle with lots of secret rooms and secret passageways. The people in the paintings can move between frames and talk! I swear some of the carpets here are magical and gradually shift position. Though I've never seen it, suits of armor definitely move._

_I haven't had all of my lessons yet, but so far they're great. History of Magic is boring as it's taught by a ghost (!) who keeps droning on in a mesmerizing monotony. A bit of a let down was Defense Against the Dark Arts. It doesn't seem like the teacher, Professor Quirrel, knows his subject at all. I was rather looking forward to learning how to defend myself._

_I didn't know how to get on the platform because nobody told me before your mom did. Maybe my parents told me, but that would have been too early for me to remember. I was raised as a Muggle by my relatives. I don't think my aunt and uncle knew how to get onto platform nine and three quarters. Come to think of it, I don't think they would have told me even if they did know._

_Their excuse for not being there to see me off was that their son, my cousin, Dudley, was given a pig tail by Hagrid, the groundskeeper here at Hogwarts and a truly delightful fellow. The only reason my uncle got me as far as King's Cross in the first place was because Dudley had an appointment with the doctor to get that tail removed._

_I never heard another version of the story of how my parents died than the one Hagrid told me. Everything I've heard since my birthday seems to be the similar to what he said. The Dursleys led me to believe my parents got drunk and died in a car accident._

_I don't know what an Animagus is, so I think I'm probably not one. My owl's name is Hedwig; you'll have met her if you're reading this._

_I know what it's like to be lonely. Dudley always scared off anyone who might be interested in being my friend. I spent ages alone in my room. Good thing Dudley isn't here at Hogwarts. I might just prefer going to St Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys over going to school again with him._

_What's it like to have a fam such a big family? I heard from Ron that you're the youngest and only girl. What's that like?_

_Looking forward to your reply,__Love,__Harry_

Ginny folded the letter uncomfortably. Harry had crossed a number of things out, but she could still read the words he had completed. There was a lot more to this boy than she could ever have anticipated.

Smiling, she grabbed another piece of parchment and started writing. _Dear Harry,_ she began, but she immediately wondered how to continue. _I know it was rather stupid of me to run after the train. I just felt like it. What did I make you feel like?_

Ginny re-inked her quill, deciding what to write next. She figured she should answer his questions. Ginny realized he had been about to write "What's it like to have a family?" She frowned. Weren't his aunt and uncle family? Ginny reread that part of his reply and saw that he referred to them as his "relatives" rather than "family". She also noticed they had fed him a false tale of how his parents had died. _It's fun to have such a big family, especially at Christmas. The twins usually start a prank war - it's hilarious. They're always reluctant to try and prank me. They say it's because I'm a girl, but I don't believe that. They're just afraid of my Bat-Bogey Hex!_

_We're not very rich, as Ron might have told you. (Did he turn all red? He gets uncomfortable whenever the topic changes to financial situations.) But money doesn't buy happiness, really. We don't have a big house by wizarding standard, but from what I've seen, Muggles live in much smaller houses. Bill and Charlie, and Fred and George share rooms._ Ginny wondered what else she could write about having a big family. After a while, she decided to continue with her own questions.

_Tell me a bit more about your relatives. They don't seem like nice people, but that's just my opinion. What's your room like?_ Definitely not nice people, she thought. Harry sounded especially bitter about his cousin, Dudley. Ginny hoped she hadn't paid too much unnecessary attention to that crossed out mistake, "cu". She decided it was time to give a happier tone to her letter. _Tell me about Hagrid, too. He seems like fun!_

Ginny paused, thinking of a funny way to end this letter. _This is my second letter to you, so I guess that makes us quill friends. Yay! Love, Ginny._

* * *

Harry was ecstatic. He'd just received his third letter from Ginny. His third! Harry wondered why something as simple as a letter could cheer him up so. He didn't care why, especially after Snape's particularly acidic lesson. He'd docked about twenty points from Gryffindor because Harry was "disturbing others by breathing loudly".

_Dear Harry,_

_If it's your room, why do you call it Dudley's second room? Where did you sleep before his second room became your room? You won't be able to get away with not telling me, you know. We both agreed to answer the other's questions as best we could. What do I need to do to get you to tell me?_

_Snape seems like a nasty fellow. If he really does hate you, the best you can do to enrage him is ignoring him. He'll get furious by how little effect he has on you._

_As for the Gringotts break-in, I think you might be on to something. Dumbledore is a very important wizard, and he has many things people would kill for. I can't think of anything that could be as small as you said, but I'm sure you'll find out in due time. Dumbledore would ask Hagrid to pick something up for him if he was in Diagon Alley for another reason. I think that the whatever-it-was almost got stolen._

_Dad says only a powerful Dark wizard or witch could get away with a break-in in Gringotts. So whatever he or she doesn't have, I think it's a good thing they don't have it yet. Thank Hagrid for me._

_No, I don't know what I want to do when I grow up. I've thought of becoming a Healer (which I think is parallel to a doctor in the Muggle world), but I don't know yet. Maybe curse-breaking like Bill does? I don't know. I guess I still have some time to figure it out, don't I? You probably haven't thought of it, but what do you want to be when you grow up?_

_Looking forward to your reply, as always,__Love,__Ginny_

Eagerly, Harry started writing a reply. When he reached the last few paragraphs, however, he stopped. He could no longer avoid the room question. Ginny was much too sharp for her own good.

Harry looked around to see if Ron was near him. He'd start laughing hysterically if he could see him now: writing a letter to his sister. He only saw the twins, plotting in a corner of the common room. Getting the sudden beginnings of an idea, he approached them.

"Hey, Harry. What can we do for you?"

Harry grinned. "It's Ginny."

"Oh," said George. At least, Harry thought it was George. He couldn't quite tell them apart yet. "Writing love poems to our sister, are you?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Harry. "Look -"

"How might you require our assistance, our dear sister's true love and sonnetist?" Fred asked.

"Shut up," Harry said. "I was wondering ... Ginny ... does she have any secrets? I mean, is there anything she would never, ever tell another person?" The twins' eyes lit up with glee. "Well, is there?" Harry demanded.

"If there was," Fred reasoned logically, "we wouldn't know about it, would we?"

Harry could've slapped himself in the head for asking them. Of course, what good would trading secrets be if the twins knew it anyway?

"But there's this one thing ..." George said.

"... that we've been dying to find out," Fred completed.

"What is it?" Harry asked, mentally swearing that if Ginny told him, and she didn't want him to tell the twins, he wouldn't, no matter how much they pleaded.

"It's just ... two years ago, Bill came home with a girlfriend - a stereotype brainless blonde."

"She got on all of our nerves. Everywhere she walked, the house was 'dirty'. She expected us to do her dishes and other chores. She kept mixing up our names. She even kept calling Bill 'Bilius' - it's William."

"And she even called Mom 'porky'. In short, she was no match for Bill. The problem was how to get rid of her."

"Let me guess," Harry said. "Ginny claims credit?" Both the twins nodded. Harry smiled as he went back to his customary letter-writing spot and finished the last paragraph of his letter.

_About my room, Quidditch Quo. (I'm fairly sure that means 'something for something'.) It seems fair to me that for me to tell you a secret, you must, in turn, tell me one. You can tell me this: exactly why is it that you claim credit for getting rid of Bill's girlfriend two years ago? If you tell me that, I'll tell you where I slept before I got Dudley's second room. (Yeah, you figured that part out fine; it wasn't always the place where I slept.)_

_That should shut her up about my room_, Harry thought. According to the twins, she was never going to tell anyone how she got rid of Bill's girlfriend. If telling that was the only way to find out about his cupboard, she would forget about stop whining.

Just a few days later, however, he got the reply.

_Nice try, Harry. I bet Fred and George told you about Bill's girlfriend - Ron was never interested how I did it; he just thanked me, and Percy never believed I did it in the first place. Fred and George are the ones who always bullied tried to bully me into telling them. Now they are going to try and bully you._

_Yes, you read that right. I'm going to tell. I saw through your attempt to negotiate an I-don't-tell-you-you-don't-tell-me truce. I am going to tell you this secret of mine, and you, in turn, will tell me that secret of yours. Though I'm about to write it in this a letter, I will understand if you feel reluctant to. Letters are, after all, not the most reliable means for relaying information. We'll find another way for you to tell me. That reminds me - when you're done reading this letter, please burn it. I'll bet anything Fred and George are going to poke around looking for it, and they _will _find it if it is not destroyed._

_Harry, if you tell anyone else what you're about to read, I swear you've got something coming. They're painful and nasty. They have wings and come out of your nose. Because if Bill ever finds out that I was responsible, I'm in trouble._

_You have to understand that I wanted her gone badly. Her name was Alexandra, 'vith a soft d and a rrrolling rrr'. I really, really hated her._

_I decided to write her a fake letter. I looked closely at the twins' letters from Hogwarts and modified the seal. Then I made sure that Bill would intercept it._

Dear Miss Alexandra Debukhova, _(I wrote)_

We have studied your application form, and we are glad to inform you that you meet the requirements we set. Therefore, you have been accepted to Hogsmaede Convent. We expect you to be at Hogsmaede station at noon on August the second (this is two days from today) so we can escort you to the cloister. Please be punctual.

Yours Sincerely, Mafalda Soror, abbess

_You should have seen the look on his face when he read it! He accused Alexandra of faking her affection for him and planning to leave without saying goodbye. She was insulted that he even believed what that letter said. They got into a row that night, and Alexanrrra left in a tizzy. We never heard from her since!_

_If Bill ever finds out I was the one who wrote that letter, not a so called convent, he is going to eat me alive. He was absolutely smitten with her. Sometimes I feel ashamed that I could have done something like that to my brother. I mean, I broke his heart! But then I remind myself that it was for the best._

_So now it's your turn to tell me your secret. Where did you sleep before you got Dudley's second room? What were you about to write before you crossed out "cu" in your first letter? Another thing, but you don't have to answer that if it's not related. Why do you keep referring to your letters from Hogwarts, in plural? I thought people only ever got one. If you ask it of me, I'll promise I won't tell anyone._

Harry sighed loudly. He crumbled up the letter and threw it into the common room fire, as Ginny had asked him to burn it.

"Tired, are you?" Ron asked. Harry couldn't tell whether he was referring to his physical condition (after all, it was late in the evening) or to Ginny's letters.

"A bit," Harry replied truthfully to both options. He took out a spare bit of parchment and started writing a reply to Ginny. There was only one thing for it: the truth.

Ron shook his head in frustration with his sister and went back to reading the book in his hands.

* * *

_Cupboard. I lived in the cupboard under the stairs until I got my letter from Hogwarts. The first one was addressed to the Cupboard under the Stairs. When my uncle saw that, he made me move upstairs._

_I didn't get to read the letters, of course. My uncle said it was addressed to me by mistake. He burned it, along with all the others that followed. He and my aunt didn't want me to realize I was a wizard - or a freak, as they would call it. Every day, more letters arrived, but I was never able to get my hands on one until Hagrid came._

_The Dursleys hate me. They never let me have as much food as I'd like - as they let Dudley have. Everything that was ever given to me by other people was instantly taken away and given straight to Dudley - who, if he didn't want it, would just break it to annoy me. I got punished when I got bad grades at school and I got punished when my grades were better than Dudley's. The only time I've ever been hugged was by a stranger on the street - who I now realize must have been a witch._

_If you don't want to write back, I'll understand. Who would want to write to a freak who's been living in a cupboard until they turned eleven? What kind of abnormal person has a family that hates him? Thank you. I enjoyed your letters._

_Please don't tell Ron. If he finds out who I really am, I don't think he'll want to be friends with me anymore._

Before she started reading the letter, Ginny had been anxious to find out what Harry had been keeping secret. After the first paragraph, her anxiety turned to shock. The shock turned to loathing and that turned to sadness. By the end of the last paragraph, Ginny was in tears and sobbing loudly.

Now she knew why there was more to this boy than met the eye. Now she knew his horrible past.

A knock on the door told her that either her mother or her father wanted to come in. "Ginny, dear, are you all right?" It was her father. The door creaked open, and her father stepped into the room. He sat beside Ginny on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. "What is it?" he asked after a while.

"It's Harry," Ginny sobbed, but she was unable to control her voice long enough to say anything else that was sensible. Her father made for the letter, but she held it out of his reach. "Sorry, Dad," she managed to say. "It's not yours to read." Somewhat puzzled, he wrapped his arms around his sobbing daughter again.

"It's his family ... they're horrible to him. They hate him, Dad!" She paused for a second. "He thinks he's not worthy of being written to by me! He thinks Ron's too good for him. He thinks he's a freak!"

Ginny's father started rubbing his daughter's back. "It's their fault," she wailed. "His family … they made him think like that. How can you put someone in a cupboard and tell them it's their room? How can you tell a kid his parents died of their own accord? How can you not feed a child when he's hungry?"

Her father was shocked by this information. Apparently, Harry Potter wasn't quite the pampered little fellow the stories let on. He wanted to do something about it, but his priorities lay with his daughter. He continued rubbing her back. "Sshhh."

"Don't you shush me, Dad! I don't deserve your consolation when he - when he - he never had a hug before in his life but from a stranger who knew him for the scar on his forehead! I'm part of the people that rejoiced the day that You-Know-Who was conquered - that day that he was sent to live with THEM! I'm disgusted with myself! I'm sorry, Dad. I need to do this alone."

Her father, accepting his daughter's need for privacy, planted a kiss on the top of her head and asked, "Do you want me to leave?" She nodded as more tears fell from her eyes. He left and closed the door softly behind him.

_Dear Harry, _(she wrote) 

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry your relatives are horrible to you. I'm sorry I made you tell me. I'm sorry I was one of the people who thought you led a king's pampered life. Will you forgive me?_

_There are a number of things that I need to straighten out, though. First of all, I love writing to you even more than you enjoy writing to me, so I'm not giving that up. I finally discovered how brave you are - yes, brave, because no coward could have told me what you just did - and I'm not eager to give up this relationship, even if it is solely through our quills. So, please reply._

_Secondly, don't ever, _ever _let _anyone _convince you that you're a freak. You. Are. Not. A. Freak. The Dursleys are freaks. You aren't. There's nothing wrong with you. Don't ever let me catch you saying or even thinking that there is._

_It's not your fault your relatives hate you. I'm sure you tried all kinds of things to please them, but none of them worked, did they? They just hate you. Not for a logical reason or anything, but they do. It's not your fault. Stop trying to adjust yourself to what you think they want you to be, and start realizing you don't give a rat's ass what they want._

_I've known Ron a lot longer than you have. I can't say I'm entirely sure because sometimes he's downright unpredictable, but I'd bet my left eyeball that he respects you for who you _are _- not for who the Dursleys make you out to be and not for your past. If you tell him, he might be a little shocked at first, as I was, but in the end, he'll see that it doesn't make you a different person. You're not hiding behind anything, so stop being afraid you might be discovered._

_You're right. The Dursleys are not your family. They are your relatives. There's a difference, and you know that most of all._

_But you have family. You might not be related to them by blood, but that doesn't matter so much anyway. There are people who you can regard your family because no matter what they'll be there for you when you need them most. Ron. Hagrid. Even Neville._

_I'd like to belong to that club, too. Can I join? I hate to sound like I'm trying to buy my way in, but I promise to give you a hug the very next time we meet. I'll double your total._

_Looking forward to your reply,__Love,__Ginny._

* * *

A few days later, Ginny got a reply from Harry. Harry had a knack for trying to get people to blame him, but Ginny would have none of it. He also tended to beat around the bush when facing something uncomfortable. However, Ginny was able to filter out one very important thing: _I'd like that_, he'd written.

Hedwig continued to fly to Hogwarts, from the Burrow and vice versa. Every time she took flight, the letter attached to her leg seemed to increase in length and, more importantly for a post bird, in weight.

Harry and Ginny exchanged more and more secrets. He even told her things that he would never _dream_ of telling Ron.

Harry told her of his adventures at Hogwarts, and she always had some useful input to supply. He told her all about making the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and the duel that then ensued between himself and Malfoy. She regretted being a little too late with the reply educating him in the use of the Bat-Bogey Hex. The next letter to her explained about the three-headed dog that guarded the Forbidden Corridor on the Third Floor.

He told her of the troll they'd met in Hermione's toilet and how they had been friends with Hermione ever since. According to Ginny, Hermione was a good addition to his 'family' as her bookishness could prove useful one day.

She was planning to invite him to the Burrow over Christmas, but unfortunately, her parents had other plans. They wanted to go to Romania to see Charlie, so the boys at Hogwarts would have to stay exactly there - at Hogwarts. Needless to say, the relay of letters did not decrease.

They even sent each other Christmas gifts. Ginny got a beautiful blue scarf made of magical material that would warm the skin that touched it. Harry got a piece-repairing chessboard. Whenever they played on Ron's Muggle board, they had to ask fourth years or above to repair the pieces for them. Now, however, Ginny's board could repair the broken pieces as soon as the game was over. In addition to that, Ginny had sent him a moving picture of herself flying on her broomstick out on the pitch close to the Burrow. Harry had asked if she had any pictures of herself she could send, so she had asked her father to take one of her. Ginny did not ask for a picture of him. She knew the Dursleys would never have made any, and the chance some were taken at school was small. She would just have to rely on her memory.

Harry asked her about Nicholas Flamel, and she discovered, via her mother, that he had once been a famous Alchemist. This discovery led the trio at Hogwarts to the idea of a Philosopher's Stone hidden at Hogwarts.

She was aware of his suspicion of Snape, but she became absolutely terrified when he informed her that Snape was working for Voldemort. Voldemort was going to try and steal the Stone to generate a new body for himself. Ginny desperately hoped beyond hope that Harry would not get hurt when trying to stop him, if it ever came to that.


	4. The Mirror of Erised

CHAPTER IV  
**The Mirror of Erised**

"You drink that," said Harry. "No, listen - get back and get Ron - grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy - go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

"But Harry - what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well - I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "Maybe I'll get lucky again."

Hermione's lip trembled and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.

_Well, that makes two, I guess_, Harry thought, making a mental note to tell Ginny he'd been hugged by another person. "Hermione -" Harry started.

"Harry," she interrupted. "Be careful, okay. Just stall him. Dumbledore will be there in no time."

"I will," said Harry. "Go." Hermione took one of the larger bottles and swallowed a mouthful of its contents. "It's not poison, is it?" Harry asked anxiously. She shook her head and stepped through the purple flames.

_All right. Here we go_, Harry thought as he picked up the smallest bottle on the table. It was barely a mouthful, and it tasted like ice. Unafraid of the black flames now, Harry stepped through them.

He entered the last chamber. There was someone there, but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.

It was Quirrel.

"YOU!" Harry gasped, forgetting all about stealth and sneakiness.

"Yes," Quirrel replied idly. "Me," he said, drawing the single syllable to an unnatural length. "How very observant of you." He wasn't stuttering as usual.

"But I thought Snape -"

"SNAPE," Quirrel bellowed, anger flashing in his eyes, "has betrayed the Dark Lord! He will pay most dearly for his treason."

* * *

"Ron, Ron, wake up!" Hermione said frantically, slapping his cheek several times in quick succession. Finally, Ron came round.

"'Mione? What happened?"

"Ron, thank goodness! You sacrificed yourself in the chess match against the life size pieces."

"Oh, right," said Ron, who was being helped to his feet by Hermione. "Does this mean Harry got the Stone?"

"No, he's in the last chamber. We have to get Dumbledore quickly!" Hermione pulled Ron's arm around her neck and started walking towards the flying-key chamber.

When they got there, Hermione insisted they ride on one broom. Ron was, after all the better flier, and he would be able to fly them straight to the owlery to send Hedwig to Dumbledore.

Minutes later, Fluffy woke up as two first-years zoomed past on a flying broomstick. A useful charm of Hermione's opened the door, and they flew out into the corridor, past McGonagall, who dropped her books again, and up to the owlery.

Hermione scribbled a quick note while muttering, "Hedwig, this is _urgent_. Harry's life might depend on this." Hedwig hooted in acknowledgment and didn't wait for Hermione to tie the letter to her leg. Instead, she grabbed the letter out of Hermione's hands with her beak and took off at great speed through the open window.

Exactly that moment, McGonagall came bursting through the owlery doors, in a terrible temper, her fallen books forgotten. 'YOU THREE! FLYING THROUGH THE CASTLE! EXPLAIN YOURSELVES!" Both Hermione and Ron - even the owls - cowered into the smallest corners of the tower. "Where's Harry?" McGonagall asked in a smaller voice, before she turned very white and nearly fainted as she realized where Harry must be.

* * *

"But Snape hates me!" Harry protested.

"Oh, he does," Quirrel responded idly. "The overgrown bat does not know how to pick his friends. Be quiet, now, Potter. I need to figure out this mirror." It was only then that Harry realized why Quirrel never looked at him. He was standing in front of a huge mirror - _the Mirror of Erised_. "I can see the stone! But why can't I find it?"

"You're wasting your time," said Harry smoothly. "As we speak, Hermione's sending my owl to Dumbledore. He will be here in a couple of minutes."

"Oh he will, will he? And your owl is of the most reliable sort, is she? Won't get lost, will she? Now shut up, Potter, you're stalling for nothing!"

"Wh-what are you talking about. Of course, she'll find him!"

"You know, Potter, you are as foolish as you look. Do you not think the Dark Lord would have lured him to the Ministry without ensuring he wouldn't return prematurely? I cast a spell on the old cripple to ward off owls, boy. You're all alone."

"What about the rest of the Hogwarts staff?" Harry said defiantly, determined not to go down without a fight.

"Do you deem them a match for the likes of Lord Voldemort?" Quirrel asked lazily in return.

What happened next stole Harry's voice and ability to move. Another, icy cold voice sounded from the back of Quirrel's head. "Are you implying that Dumbledore is?"

"Of course, not, Milord," said Quirrel hastily. "I was just comparing -"

"You are wasting time with the boy," the voice interrupted. "Shut him up and concentrate on the mirror."

Quirrel pointed his wand at Harry, muttered an incantation, and bound Harry to the wall with living ropes.

* * *

Hedwig was confused. She was told to reach Dumbledore, but she couldn't find him. Less than a week ago, she had felt his presence wandering about in the school. But now it felt as though he did not exist. She couldn't even locate his body, as if he was dead.

Deciding on an alternate course, Hedwig increased her speed. If Harry's life depended on it, she would have to be fast and reach the right person.

* * *

_Oh, goody, Harry's written again,_ Ginny thought as she saw the speck that was Hedwig get bigger and bigger. But then, as she realized with accuracy the speed of that messenger bird, she thought something wasn't right.

Hedwig entered through the window and, before landing, she thrust the letter into Ginny's hands. She read it, her face becoming white as she finished it.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_You-Know-Who lured you into the Ministry to give him time to try and get the Stone! Harry's gone down to get it first, but the troll was already unconscious! If You-Know-Who is there, he will kill Harry! Come quickly!_

_Ron & Hermione_

"MUUUM!" Ginny yelled. "Come here now! QUICK!"

Her mother Apparated beside Ginny. She barely had time to mumble, "What is it?" when Ginny stuffed the letter into her hands. She quickly read it, mumbled to her daughter, "Stay here," and was gone with a faint _pop_.

Mrs Weasley Apparated to the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic. Luckily, she spotted Dumbledore engaged in conversation with Eric, the watchwizard. She strode to him as quickly as she could and handed him the letter. His eyes widened, and he Disapparated with a barely audible _pop_. The piece of parchment fluttered to the ground.

Mrs Weasley picked it up and Apparated back home to her daughter.

* * *

Quirrel cursed under his breath. "I don't understand ... is the Stone _inside _the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harry's mind was racing. The mirror showed the looker what he wanted most. What Harry wanted most was to get away with the Stone - to find it before Quirrel did. So if he looked into it, he would see himself finding the Stone ... that would mean he would see where it was hidden!

"Master," said Quirrel, desperately, "Help me. I am useless. I do not know how to get the Stone."

To Harry's horror, he heard the same voice that he'd heard before answer Quirrel. "Dumbledore's trinkets can only ever be obtained by the pure of heart ... The boy - use the boy."

Harry felt the ropes that were binding him loosen. He tripped on purpose to kill more time. Quirrel dragged him to his feet and set him before the mirror. "Tell me what you see!"

Harry expected to see the Stone or where it was hidden. If not the Stone, he would have expected to see his family - but not this. Not this.

He saw his reflection, only he was smiling. And there was one other person in the mirror. She was standing beside him. She had long, red hair and freckles. One arm was curled around Harry's neck, and she was smiling vibrantly.

_Ginny?_ Harry said to himself. There was no doubt about it. Even if he did not recognize her from the train station or from the magical photo she'd sent him a few months ago, the likenesses to her brothers were too great to be overlooked.

His reflection looked down at her adoringly. She planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Well?" Quirrel demanded.

The reflection of Ginny looked at Quirrel angrily as if she was about to curse him. Then she turned and faced Harry - the non-reflection-Harry - and her expression lightened again. She was smiling warmly. "You have the courage," she whispered, but Harry was certain Quirrel couldn't hear. "Use it." From one of her pockets, she produced a ruby red stone and held it at eye level for him to identify as his quarry: the Philosopher's Stone. Then she stuffed it into the pocket of Harry's reflection, and at the same time, Harry felt something heavy drop into _his_ pocket. _He'd gotten the Stone_.

"Well, what do you see?" Quirrel demanded again. Harry replayed Ginny's words in his mind. _You have the courage. Use it._ Her voice had sounded so full of admiration, so confident in his success, that he would have felt ashamed if he had disregarded it. He chose to follow her advice.

"I - my parents," he invented, figuring that saying what he saw last time wasn't the worst of excuses. "I can see my parents. They're alive. We are a family again."

"Get out of the way!" Quirrel said, shoving Harry forcefully to the side.

"He lies ... he lies ..." that same, ominous voice said.

Quirrel grabbed Harry by the armpit and set him in front of the mirror again. "Tell me what you really see!"

"Let me speak to him ..."

"Master," Quirrel pleaded, "you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough ... for this ... I must face ... the bane ... of my existence ..."

Quirrel turned his back towards Harry. Slowly, he started undoing the turban. When the last of the headwear was gone, Harry saw the face that belonged to Lord Voldemort, etched into the back of Quirrel's head.

His skin was white. His nose was slits, and his eyes were a deep, fiery red as they fixed themselves on Harry. "Harry Potter," it whispered. "An honor it is, truly. Do you see what has become of me? Mere vapor and shadow and dust ... I have form only when I share another being's body ... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds ... Unicorn blood has strengthened me these past few weeks ... You saw my faithful servant drink it in the forest ... But it is not enough ... Not enough, to create a body of my own ... I need the Elixir of Life ... I need that Philosopher's Stone in your pocket ... Will you not give it to me?"

Feeling sprang back to Harry's legs as he realized Voldemort knew he had the Stone. He took several steps backwards. "Not afraid of me, are you?" Voldemort asked. "Your parents were brave ... before they died ... courageous in the face of death, to save you ..."

"You killed them," said Harry forcefully. "Why should I give it to you?"

"Harry, Harry ... death is but the next step in life ... one that I can undo ... if you wish ... I can bring back your parents, Harry ... but I need that Stone of yours to do it."

Once again, Ginny's words echoed in the depths of Harry's mind. _You have the courage. Use it._ He pulled out the Stone from his pocket. Voldemort eyed it greedily. "Is this the only way you can return?" he asked, his voice betraying no hint of the fear he felt.

Voldemort contemplated what to say next. "There are ... other ways ... but the Stone is the only way I can bring your parents back."

"Pity," said Harry, calculating what Quirrel would do next. "Then I guess we'll see each other again." Voldemort's expression turned to that of fear and hatred as Harry threw the stone, as hard as he could, onto the ground. It shattered into thousands of pieces, which scattered in every direction.

Before the echoes of the noise abated, Harry charged at Quirrel. He fell over and Harry, on top, pressed his thumbs against Quirrel's throat, ignoring the instant blistering of every bit of Quirrel's skin he touched.

Meanwhile, Quirrel had found his wand. "KILL HIM!" shouted Voldemort as Quirrel sent curse after curse at Harry. Every time he was hit by a curse, he felt his grasp weaken, and his eyesight blur. But he pressed and pressed until the last curse took him, and he let go.

He heard more voices, maybe in his own head, yelling "Harry! Harry!" but he didn't care. All he knew was that he was falling down ... down ... down ...

* * *

Harry woke up to the sound of a beautiful voice. He could tell she was having a conversation with another voice, but the words did not register or mean anything to him. It might as well have been Arabian to him, for all he could understand.

Suddenly, the voices stopped. Harry found their absence unnerving. His eyes fluttered open. He saw something shiny - the Snitch! He tried to grab it, but his arm was too heavy and painful. In fact, his entire body was heavy and painful.

He blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. Another blink showed him the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore.

"Good morning, Harry," he said in a cheerful voice. "How do you feel today?"

"Good morning, sir. I feel like - well - crap."

"Alas, that is to be expected," said Dumbledore gravely. "You lived through a terrible ordeal."

"I destroyed the Stone, didn't I?" Dumbledore nodded. "And Quirrel?"

"He died of his injuries."

Harry nodded and processed the information. "Is Ginny here? I thought I heard her voice."

Dumbledore moved aside to reveal Ginny, standing all alone. She was positively beaming. "Hi, there, Harry!"

"Ginny!"

Dumbledore, smiling and eyes glinting, announced his departure and his plans to return in the evening.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, making room for her to sit on his bed.

She gladly accepted the offer. She hopped onto his mattress and crossed her legs, facing Harry. "Well, after Mom went to get Dumbledore, I made her let me come to Hogwarts. I've been here ever since."

"How long was I gone?" Harry asked, thinking of the Quidditch match that he was supposed to play against Ravenclaw.

"Three days," Ginny said. Correctly interpreting the drop of emotion in Harry's eyes, she added, "Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor; they won the cup."

At that moment, Ron and Hermione entered the Hospital Wing. "Harry!" they cried in unison. "Dumbledore said you were awake," said Hermione.

"Seems like it," said Harry, looking around in mock surprise. "How have you two been?"

"Fine, fine," said Ron. "We've been waiting for you to wake up, mostly. Ginny's hardly left your side." He glanced suspiciously at his sister, who blushed slightly.

"We couldn't," Hermione cut in, "because we had lessons. But never mind that. You've got to tell us what happened in the last chamber! It wasn't Snape, was it?"

Harry recounted the tale of what had happened after he went through the black flames. The three listeners were a very good audience. They drew breaths and gasped in all the right places. Harry told them how he was shocked when he discovered it was Quirrel who was after the Stone, not Snape. He told them about the mirror and that it was the secret to finding the Stone.

When he was about to say what he saw when he looked in the mirror, he paused. He had seen Ginny's reflection, but he didn't want Ron and Hermione to know that. That would stay between himself and Ginny.

"... I saw Dumbledore. He gave me the Stone. And at the same time - I don't know how - I felt the Stone drop into my own pocket." Hermione screamed when Harry told them how Voldemort had revealed himself in the back of Quirrel's head. When Harry described how he'd smashed the Stone, Hermione and Ginny applauded. Ron soon joined in.

"You asked for five minutes ... nearly half an hour ago! They must leave. You need rest," complained Madam Pomfrey, the matron.

"I'd like a few private words with Ginny, if that's alright?" Harry asked.

Madam Pomfrey bit her lip. "All right, but you two -" she looked at Ron and Hermione, "- out. He needs rest. And you're late for Transfiguration!"

Harry shot them an apologetic glance. "We'll come back later," assured Ron. Madam Pomfrey left for her office, but not before glaring at Ginny.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" Ginny asked.

"It's ... I lied. When I said I saw Dumbledore in the mirror. Dumbledore wasn't the one to give me the Stone. It was ... someone else." Harry failed to meet her eyes as he said this.

"Me?" Ginny asked slowly. Harry nodded solemnly. "That's alright, Harry," said Ginny brightly. "Maybe you just wanted to meet me more than anything."

Harry seriously doubted this. If that was the case, then what was that kiss all about? Unconsciously, Harry rubbed his cheek, the reflection of which had once been kissed by Ginny.

"When are you going home?" Harry asked, afraid of the answer.

"I'm staying till the end of term. It's only a couple of days. Mom's going to talk to Dumbledore to see if we can't take you home with us, so you don't have to go back to the Dursleys," Ginny said. That thought brought a smile to Harry's face, not because he was afraid of going back to the Dursleys, but because he might spend more time with Ginny.

"I'd like that," he said. "And next year, you'll be going to Hogwarts, won't you?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Excellent. So I guess we'll be friends, then."

"Yeah, but we're friends already, don't you think?"

Harry nodded. "Do I ... do I get that hug?"

"Of course, you do," Ginny said as she hopped off the end of his bed and walked towards the front of it. She pulled Harry into a warm hug and said, "But you really need to rest, now. You've been through a lot. Sleep tight. I'll stay near you if you need me." She pulled the blanket up to Harry's shoulders and planted a kiss on his forehead.

It didn't take long for Harry to fall asleep. All he ever needed was a happy thought to hold on to, and sleep soon claimed him. His last thought was that he was friends with none other than Ginny Weasley.

Little did he know that it was a friendship that would, in time, evolve into something more.


End file.
